The White Mare of Mirkwood
by AlabrithGaiamoon
Summary: Legolas finds an enchanting mare in the woods, but will daddy let him keep it? a horse is a horse of course, of course, or is it(abandoned)


Many races reside in the lands of Middle Earth, creatures both tall and small in places both far and wide. The oldest, yet fairest of the peoples are the Elves. They are the First-born in the world, who hold much of its knowledge, and their songs record it and its wonders. 

Over the Misty Mountains, under the shadowy boughs of Mirkwood, darkness had lurked there. It came from lands to the southeast, the lands of Mordor. Mordor's treachery had spread to Mirkwood, masking its glory and beauty. The once green lands were now dark, the free air turned stagnant, and the noble creatures of the wood had evolved into hardy beasts. 

In spite of the unnatural horrors of Mirkwood, its inhabitants make what they have into fair things that bring back some of Mirkwood's glory. Amid these handmade treasures was something of natural beauty and grace. It grew in the forest, sleek and tall. It was pale and sweet in sound. The trees had known it long, and some who were now giants, had sprouted from seeds under its crystal blue eyes. _It, _specifically, was an Elf named _Legolas_. This means _'green leaf' _in the Common tongue. He had inherited a mane of white-gold hair from his father, Thranduil, the king of Mirkwood. There, our story begins.

^~*~^

Along the paths of which we dream, dreamt a child. This child was blossoming behind the others around her. Adult hood was coming to her slowly but surely, she was born with the sign of the Chinese dragon for strength, and the European Capricorn for wisdom. Both symbols constructed the frame of her mind and spirit; she was strong and sharp of wit and knowledge.

 The child's link to the physical world had severed; she was cast into an abyss streaked with stars. She cried, for she did not know what would become of her. She could not feel, or touch, then, she was wrenched into consciousness. Or was she? Darkness still ruled her vision. She lay her head down and was cast back into the pit from whence she came.

^~*~^

Under Mirkwood's dark boughs walked the prince, from his lips burst song and laughter. He walked alone, but armed. Light flakes of snow peppered his hair and brow. The cold could not reach him. No leaf stirred under the ice, silence only amplified his voice. As his song ended, the delicate sight before him startled him.

Between the wide-set flukes of a tree, in an icy patch of shamrocks, lay a young mare. Her crystal-white coat glistened all on it own, defining her muscles and curves. Her equally white mane and tail were long, untrimmed, and in delicate, smooth waves. She had her legs folded half under her, half out beside her. Her hoofs mimicked the shine of gray, smoked-glass, shining as if polished, but unlike that of a mirror. Her head lay on the ground, stretching from her long neck. Her eyes were closed; she was asleep. Her nostrils expanded and contracted slowly, her breathing was content.

He stood in awe of this beautiful creature for many moments; his mouth hung agape, and his eyes ample, taking in every inch of her. This was truly a perfect horse. He overcame himself and padded softly over the Jack Frost to kneel beside her. She did not stir, but her large ears flicked the falling snowflakes off. He settled onto the shamrocks, and laid his head on hers and stroked her head and neck, hypnotized once more. Each stroke he made was reluctant to start again, for when he removed his palm to start over, he was sure she would vanish out from under him. His similarly shaped ears her could hear her breathing. He nearly slipped into unconsciousness, when suddenly; she drew and long breath, as if yawning and stirred. She snorted softly but did not move immediately, she half-opened her eyes. Brown, they were brown, like rich clay in a cliff side, near a river. 

She raised her head, feeling the elf's weight on her; she craned her head to look at him. She seemed to study him, unsure if he was a dream or not. She sniffed instinctively, nudging his chest with her rounded muzzle. He allowed her to further survey him and his scent. She nuzzled his head and neck, nipping his hair, and then growled softly in a horse's manner. She tried to get a hold of his hair again, this time a larger sample. He brushed his locks away and laughed softly. "From where do you rein, my lady? Such a creature of beauty and grace cannot originate from these lands. You are also a rare find, glittering in the snow so." he murmured and held her muzzle in his hands.

She looked at him as if to speak with her thoughts and not a mouth. "I do not know." Then a voice spoke in his mind, as only animals and nature can speak, _"Where am I? Who are you, he-with-grass-for-hair?"_

_"You are in a forest, in the winter season even! How could you have wandered in so far in at this time of year?" _he spoke with his mind back to her.

_"I…I cannot remember… not even what I am called by, he-with-grass-for-hair." _

_"I am called by the name Greenleaf, I wish to call you, White-lady, for you are indeed. This forest is not a safe place to be, but it is my home and I wish to share it with you."_

_"I shall live with you then, Greenleaf." _Her eyes sparkled as if to laugh. "_Come then, White-lady, I will bring you home to belong with us." _He bade her to rise, she stood sixteen hands high, nearly as tall as he. 

He placed his hand firmly on her neck, entangling his fingers in her soft mane. He noticed she did not disturb the frost; her steps were as light as his. They journeyed silently together. She placed her trust in him completely, he led her through smooth paths and finally to his home. His father's palace was built in a cavern; strong oak doors guarded it from the intruding of cold, among other things. They stood in a courtyard, they stopped as a few elves came to greet him and gaze in wonder at the fair beast beside him.

"My prince, do you bring a constellation from the heavens? This mare is made of stars." They said. She sniffed them curiously, relishing their petting. He spoke briefly to them, telling them to speak nothing of his find to anyone, and continued their journey into the doors of the palace. Inside, the cavern was huge. Another courtyard greeted them; grass grew unhindered under their feet. Trees had been planted inside the cave. They were supplied with light from high windows cut in the stone, a gray light glowed, and snow still fell outside. White-lady shook her coat of snowflakes.

 Legolas led her under an arched hall, the pillars supporting it were free of walls; every thing was open. He quickly led her through many halls and past a few doorways. He came to stop at large mahogany doors. He pulled the pewter handle and led her inside; he quickly shut it behind her.

The room was spacious, with a high ceiling. Grass grew freely here, also. A carved marble slab was laden with a wide bed and many cushions. A wardrobe also stood on stone, and a dresser with a tall mirror, several couches, chairs and other things lined the walls, richly decorated and laden with cushions and throws. A small fountain brought the sound of a stream. White-lady leaned her head on his shoulder, "This is my room." He said, stroking her neck. 

_"You are hiding me, yes?" _ She turned her head toward his door, flicking her ears.

"Yes, why?"

_"Then hide me." _

"What? Oh, no!" he could her footsteps outside his door in the hall. They were far away, but coming swiftly. Legolas sprang over to his bed, "My lady, this way, hurry!" he threw a blanket over her. A knock came to his door, "Legolas, are you in?"

"Yes, ada?" the door opened, the elf king stepped into the prince's room. "What are you doing?" he asked his son. Legolas sat beside his bed, leaning on a suspicious hoard of cushions, reading a book, which happened to be upside down. "The winter festival is tonight, I expect you to be there for the feast."

"I shall, ada."

"Do not wander too far into the forest today, the sun sets early because tonight is the longest night."

"I understand."

"And try not to stain your breeches before the festival."

"Yes, ada"

"You have nothing more to say?"

"Yes a- no, ada."

"Farewell for the moment then. Namarie, Legolas."

"Namarie, my lord."

He closed the door and went away; when his footsteps were no longer heard, the prince leaned forward and turned around. "You may move now, White-lady." She raised he head from under the pile of cushions; the blanket was still draped over her head so only her nose showed. He laughed, "You look ridiculous!" she snorted indignantly; and shoved him over with her muzzle. "You want to play rough?" he shoved her in return.

"What shall I do with you? The festival lasts until the sun comes up, I cannot just leave you here all night."

_"What else can I do? I can wait for you. In the mean time, I would love some of this grass you have here…"_

"What if some one where to come in while I was away, what would you do?"

_"I could flee to a different room, leave a door cracked and I can hide myself."_

"Are you sure you will be alright?"

_"Trust me, as I have trusted you." _

He sighed and petted her. The sun had not yet set, but many elves were already bustling in and out of the palace. It was going to be a long night.

^~*~^

Hi peoples, my second fic in about eight months, go me! Plot ideas and mischief welcome!


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